


To Core an Apple

by Chromophilic_Daydream



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Chikan, Implied Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, Mementos, November in Game, Oral Sex, PWP, Power bottom Joker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 01:44:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13330839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chromophilic_Daydream/pseuds/Chromophilic_Daydream
Summary: It’s not enough. Somehow Kurusu manages to dig deeply into his mind, without the piercing blade of Joker’s smirk but the softness of Kurusu’s playful grin. He is dangerous, far more than Akechi ever thought he was.In which Akechi realizes just how deeply he is affected by something as simple as a smile, a whisper, and desire.





	To Core an Apple

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been eating away at me for a while so I'm glad I finally finished it so I can move on! Thanks to menthechocolat and nafnaf for betaing for me! Thank you to everyone who encouraged me to write this! Hopefully someday soon I'll be able to write more smut and feel more satisfied with it!

Joker's lips are like the edge of his knife. The razor-thin smirk that graces them often in explorations of the Metaverse glints like the steel blade in his hand. Those lips always seem to twist into a mocking jeer that taunts their enemies with some glowing arrogance that Kurusu Akira does not possess in reality. It is only in the Metaverse as far as Crow can tell.

But it annoys him to no end that someone like Kurusu fights in the name of justice for the oppressed and vengeance for the wronged all while not being able to show it to the public. It annoys him because he is the same. This mock image of a person outside the Metaverse struggling to exist under the pressures of society, all the while trying to reform the world through ill intent. He wonders, as often as Joker smirks, how to blend the two together. How does one stir and merge a public face with the one of private rebellion? He wonders if the Phantom Thieves look at the Metaverse as he does. A hellish paradise where he can be himself, where he can step away from the ever-smiling Akechi Goro. Akechi Goro, whose smile was not sharp like Joker's but served as a mask of his true feelings.

But Crow can not smile like Joker can.

And it agitates him.

The Metaverse can change anyone, he knew that concept incredibly well. However, he paid close attention to Joker during battles, wondering exactly which was a mask; Joker or Kurusu.

The first time they sleep together, Akechi forgets to pay attention to the differences. Kurusu leads him on the entire night until he asks Akechi to stay with him. Akechi is a detective, he knows Kurusu's intention when his fingers purposefully rub on his own just an hour beforehand. They talk about school, about Akechi's work, and interpretations of English literature when Akechi notices that Kurusu is doing his best to keep eye contact and lean in to listen to him. When those lips curl back into a knowing smile and the spot that Kurusu had been rubbing on his bare wrist sends shivers down his spine, he knows it’s a terrible idea. But he follows Kurusu upstairs anyway.

It’s his intent, the way his eyes bore into him like he is looking for something Akechi won’t show him. He wants to know why he is so determined to peel away his layers. But Akechi isn’t an apple to be cored. That smile, be it Kurusu’s or Joker’s, could not penetrate him and probe for answers with just a simple grin and beckoning hands that waited to carve him.

When the lines between their bodies blur and meld together, Kurusu's lips twist into another kind of weapon he wasn’t expecting, however. It’s his soft voice that showers him in waves of praise. It sweeps him away with the tide of their hips rolling into an uneven rhythm that screams their inexperience. It's the grip on his wrist that keeps his hand steady as they rut against each other. It’s their confession of desire for each other that is exhaled through heated breaths that intermingle and through the sweat of their bodies. It’s when their lips meet again there is no sting of pride, there is no bite of suspicion. It’s the gasp Kurusu lets out when Akechi grazes his teeth over Kurusu’s lip that swallows his moans. That’s how Kurusu cuts into him and leaves a mark. It doesn’t burn, or pry, nor stab. It’s just warm. It's comfortable and soothing and Akechi catches the hint of a soft smile. And he wonders if that's the real Kurusu. He proves himself more dangerous than just being a Phantom Thief he must get rid of, vermin that threatens his plan.

He is uncertainty. He is doubt. He is everything that seeks to destroy Akechi's will.

It’s appealing to want, Kurusu is temptation itself, and he has to wonder why he ever accepted the invitation upstairs to the attic. He is not a fruit to be wittled down to its core, but perhaps Kurusu has been all this time.

It was a dangerous thing to wonder like that, about things so unnecessary as a boy he is going to kill within a month's time. But that doesn't stop Akechi from dreaming of that grin cutting into him like it should. Joker was the image of leadership, the one to end the evil in the world that he defined himself. He wonders if, one day, Joker will strike him down, or if his own will would win out. It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth like something stale and metallic. He prefers sweet things, however. Like that smile that begged him for intimacy.

That doesn't stop him from getting annoyed any time he sees Joker smirk because he believes it's a front, a ruse of leadership from a boy who was playing a hero.

He wishes he could be so lucky.

The next time they sleep together, Akechi takes the lead in the drafty attic of Leblanc. Now he is prepared, but that smile uncoils his resolve so he seeks to a place where he can not see it. Kurusu can no longer beam at him with coy intentions when he can't see his face, after all. He litters Kurusu's bare skin with his own lips. He listens to the softest sighs of contentment and gasps of shock as he traces the lines of Kurusu's body with tongue and teeth. He spread the other's legs open, enjoying the squirm beneath his hand and the torsion of toned thighs that threaten to tighten as he trails his fingers down the length of Kurusu's firm cock. He reaches over to grab a small bottle of lube that appears recently bought. He almost feels special. Almost. He applies it to his fingers and returns to his curious touch to Kurusu's erection that was leaking onto his stomach.

He holds him down from bucking against his ministrations.

"Sit up." He requests, keeping his voice down to the softest demand as the man beneath him obeys without further prompting. He does his best not to look at Kurusu's face, knowing that he will be weak once more and now was not a time to indulge in such fantasies that this may last. This was stress relieving for both of them. The last thing he wants is the illusion of a chance. 

He crouches down on his knees by the side of the bed.

Kurusu's legs drape over his shoulders in a fluid motion, greedily pulling him closer. He knows what he wants and he is not shy about it, though he keeps his voice to himself. And that is frustrating. He wonders how he can make him lose his composure. He wonders how many are privy to this sight, or if this was a special show for him as he takes his erection in his hand again and slides his lips over the tip, listening to his reward of a gentle gasp for air. He wonders if this will be enough to hear Kurusu’s voice. 

It isn’t. 

He wants him to moan. He wants him to yell out his name, to lose control. He wants to see his rebellion so he grasps ahold of the base of his cock and glides his mouth down. He feels him thrash against him, his legs tightening. But still no voice.

Akechi pulls back and feels Kurusu's hips chasing after his mouth before he sinks in again. Long fingers tangle in his hair and pull him closer still until the head of his dick is rubbing against the back of his throat, still dripping but he controls his reflexes and takes a deep breath through his nose to calm himself. He pulled Kurusu’s hand away with lube soiled fingers and pulls away again to swallow. He hears him this time, a slightly louder sigh.

Kurusu’s heels dig into his back as he finds a rhythm to match the thief’s gentle breathing that is rapidly becoming ragged. His thighs make it hard to move but Akechi is determined as he runs his hands between his own legs and strokes himself with that same determination. He shudders and chokes back a moan of his own before letting Kurusu go so that he may look at him. 

His face makes the ache between his legs throb. He was making Kurusu bite his lip and close his eyes this tightly? He wraps his free hand around him once more and strokes him. It isn’t much longer until Kurusu’s lip breaks free from his teeth and he gasps again.

“Ah-”

_ Akechi. Just say it. Just say my name. _

The name never comes, but they both do in its stead.

It’s not enough. Somehow Kurusu manages to dig deeply into his mind, without the piercing blade of Joker’s smirk but the softness of Kurusu’s playful grin. He is dangerous, far more than Akechi ever thought he was.

But now he craves their interactions. Like the sweet flesh of a fruit that he can never gorge himself on, he thinks about Kurusu constantly. He thinks about how he would say Akechi if they were alone again, he thinks about what he can do to break that mask Kurusu carries around with him as he roams Shibuya. 

At the same time, he wonders if his own mask would crack. He doubts it, he’s worn it too well. Kurusu is new to this, which is why he can smirk so freely as Joker. Crow isn’t allowed that luxury, like the rest of the Phantom Thieves. And that is why he will never be one of them. Why he never was one of them. He is fine with that, his plan is already coming to its final act and soon Kurusu won’t be his problem anymore.

It’s a lie, Kurusu has already scarred him more than he will ever admit. But it helps him cope with no possibilities of a future. Kurusu will always weigh heavily on his mind. He wonders how often Kurusu thinks about him.

Another dangerous trap he lays for himself. 

More dangerous hypotheticals about a thief who has proven to be just as dangerous.

But danger makes him feel alive.

So when Kurusu asks him to meet him after school a few days after their last encounter, it doesn’t take much for him to respond in agreement.

He meets him at Shibuya Station.

“Oh?” He feigns ignorance as he sees him. There is no cat on his shoulder, there are no annoying friends around him berating them about requests. There is just Kurusu, standing there waiting for him. Ready to try to peel back his layers again. “I’m surprised, where is everyone else?” He continues the innocent act. He knows exactly why Kurusu called him out here.

The dark haired thief pushes his fake glasses up onto his nose. Akechi wishes he could snatch them off and throw them to the ground. He knows the other does not need them. He knows it helps him blend in. He thinks he looks better without them.

“I figured, since we are getting into some tough parts of Niijima’s Palace, that you and I can train together today.” The Shujin student pulls his phone out of his pocket. “Privately.”

“Are you so afraid I’m going to make a fool of myself in the casino?” Akechi poses his question as an inquiry to maintain his innocence in the situation. Kurusu stares at him, through him, with that smile Joker wears in the Metaverse. Its his first time seeing it here.

His core twists into a knot. 

“Oh no, I have more faith in your abilities than that.” His smile only grows. “But there’s one area of Mementos I want to explore more.”

Akechi’s determination shuts down any urge to turn him down.

He wants this.

They _both_ want this.

They don’t make it very far into the human subconscious.

No, they only make it to the trains on the first floor.

The shadowed figures around them don’t seem to notice when Joker pushes Crow up against the wall of the ricketing car. He doesn’t know where the train is going but right now, he doesn’t care.

It could be going to the pits of hell and Joker could be leading him to Satan himself. It’s fine though, he will end up there sooner or later.

Joker’s breath is hot against his ear as he whispers to Crow. Simple, meaningless things that send shivers down his spine. The leader of the Phantom Thieves starts unfastening his jacket, gold knot by gold knot and runs his gloved fingers down Crow’s bare chest as he presses heated kisses down his neck.

“Crow-” He has already started on his pants. He’s louder in the Metaverse, while surrounded by shadowy images of people. But in the privacy of his own room, he is quiet, and never speaks of what he wants.

He is conflicted again, which is the real one?

But his hormones drown out his doubt as those red gloves brush up against his half-hard erection, still contained beneath the zipper of his pants.

Joker is bruising him with his lips, with his devilish, clever lips. He wants those lips to moan his name, he wants that smile to pierce him again. He can’t help but moan out and Joker covers his lips with his hand. 

“You don’t want everyone to hear you, right?” He teases a little, moving his hand back down from Crow’s face.

“There’s no one here.” Not really, there are only figments of people wandering around the train car.

Joker looks around, almost embarrassed. “Ah- right.” He laughs his nervousness away. It makes him even more flustered. He is really cute like this. It’s a good look on him.

The heat in the car is making his clothing unbearable. He quickly discards his white jacket and Joker looks incredibly pleased. The smile is stretched so wide, it makes him eager. He starts to take off his gloves but Joker’s hand stops him. 

“Keep them on?” He asks but Crow already know there is no answer. It’s a demand that is posed as a request. He obeys it. Today is the day that he is going to knock that cocky smirk off of Joker’s face. Today’s the day he is going to make Joker lose control of himself, all while groaning out his name.

He leaves the gloves on and begins to make work of Joker’s shirt. His gloves make it difficult and the chuckle that escapes Joker sets his nerves ablaze. He rips off the gloves and throws them aside as the train continues to rock. 

The leader of the Phantom Thieves pouts but he pulls off his own gloves in return and they soon are pressed against each other again, tracing skin and muscle with desperation in their fingers.

“Crow-” He calls out again, his voice a soft sing-song mockery of intimacy. “Crow, please fuck me.” 

He has every intention of it. Joker grins at him again and fishes a bottle out of his pocket. 

They find a vacant spot on the floor and Joker has no qualms about using his jacket to lay on. Crow is rewarded with soft hums as he again layers his completely naked sun kissed skin with bites and licks. Around them the shadowed figures roam but never do they notice them. They don’t notice when Joker gasps out as Crow slides a slicked finger into his entrance. They don’t notice how Joker’s lips quiver when Crow wraps his fingers around his dripping cock. 

But Crow notices everything. He slowly adds another finger, trying to keep his eyes trained on Joker’s face, damning every instinct that screams at him not to let Joker’s reactions get to him. His determination to rid that arrogant streak of the thief overrides the worry, the doubt that if he gets too close, he will lose to him. He isn’t worried now about being penetrated, how can he when he is the one now with two fingers inside of Joker and is making him breathe so heavily?

Nothing else matters right now. 

He separates his fingers that are crammed inside of Joker. Those grey eyes slide open, his mouth hanging open ever so slightly as he stares at Crow. They are desperate, hazy with lust.

“Crow, _please_.” He quietly begs. It’s enough this time. His stomach coils tightly, live with electricity of that voice that comes out so crudely.

He removes his fingers and wipes them on his pants that hang loose off his hips. He pours the lube anew onto his hand and tries to calm down as he coats his own neglected cock with need. It feels good to satisfy himself like this, it’s instant and gratifying, releasing the ball of tension in the pit of his stomach just enough for him to open his eyes and realize that Joker is watching him with that soft smile on his lips.

Now he has seen Joker’s smirk in the real world and Kurusu’s smile here.

Regardless he is going to push past that smile and listen to the sweet song he has been holding back from him in their last two encounters. 

With a shaky hand he slowly sinks into the wet warmth and feels his resolve all but dissolve into that heat. 

He gasps as he presses in and Joker tightens around him. His soft breaths mingle with Joker’s beneath him as they create music together. 

When Crow moves, he hears Joker moan ever so softly and it’s so satisfying he almost loses it there and then but he perseveres. He tries again and is met with the same soft sound. Long legs wrap around his waist and lock there and Crow tries again, a slightly different angle that produces a low, heady groan he has never heard before.

Joker’s volume fluctuates with his speed, he pushes back against Crow as their new pace is found and he tries different angles to make Joker sing out his name. Nothing else exists to them now, just each other and heat and voices and lips that press against each other. Crow’s willpower long gone as he drowns in Joker’s presence, his voice guiding him to what feels good and Crow wants nothing more than to make Joker come undone. Just like he has done to him now. 

When Joker grips him tightly, he knows he is close. He is tired, he is almost at his peak, that current courses through his veins and keeps him alert and firm as he picks up the speed and Joker cries out, his back arched and-

“A-akechi!” He finally calls his name. Crows fingers dig into Joker’s thigh as he presses into that spot that Joker demands attention to.

He is _so_ close.

“Goro!” 

“Akira-!”

That is all it takes in the end.

Joker is still pressing into him as they milk each other’s orgasms and exhaustion begins to settle in. They barely are able to clean up but Joker pulls Crow down after that and lays on his chest, his arms wrapped around his waist. 

“After this Palace, after the Phantom Thieves...” He whispers against Crow’s chest. “Let’s go out. For real. I like having you around.” And Crow feels his heart break into pieces. Because he enjoys it too. 

“We can try.” He lies but Joker smiles at him in earnest that chokes him up and cuts him deeper than he ever imagined.

“Promise?”

Crow nods and lies again. He wishes he didn’t have to, but it’s the kindest thing to do. Even if it hurts. Even if it guts him.

Joker presses a soft kiss to his lips and he can barely hide that he is shaking.

Over the next few days of being in Niijima’s Palace, Crow starts to notice more about the Phantom Thieves leader. The way he caters his voice to his teammates’ needs. It’s the variation of smiles that blur the lines between Kurusu and Joker. Its then that he realizes that this enigma is not so different from him. He isn’t so black and white. His mask is permanent. Except in the train. That was a face he has never seen before. 

But it’s then that Crow understands that this whole time he just played into Joker’s game. He catered those smiled and his tone for him. He got him to do exactly what he wanted, but it’s a game he didn’t mind too much. It’s a game where he feels special and needed. It’s a dangerous game that peels away his layers and makes him vulnerable. A game that leaves him questioning possibilities and dreams of what could be. It’s a game that makes him feel normal and wanted. That smile doesn’t annoy him anymore.

And if that’s the reward for playing, he’d give into the fruit of temptation and follow Joker to hell to keep his promise.

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter is @ chromiekins


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